A Faux Fairytale
by HpPotter
Summary: They should have gotten a happy ending after the war. They were supposed to heal. But it wasn't a fairytale. It was a harsh reality. A reality they realised when everything was over.


**Disclaimer: Harry Potter is the rightful property of JK Rowling.**

 ** _Warning at the end of the chapter to avoid spoilers._**

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 _'The most painful goodbyes are the ones that are never said and never explained'_

 _Anonymous_

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~Guilt~

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There was no fanfare. No blazing lights. No spells flying around. He didn't die saving someone. He wasn't tortured by evil wizards. He wasn't even down with an illness. It was just the sound of flesh hitting flesh, then flesh hitting the glass table, glass shattering and pitiful cry of a child.

That was me.

I never suspected anything was wrong. Not when he would have mysteriously broken a bone. Not when he would have a black eye, a split lip and various bruises on his arms. I never suspected anything that would lead to this. Yet there were signs. Signs that I so blissfully ignored. Young as I was, I never even imagined this to happen. We were just a happy perfect little family. I see the glitch now.

I wish I had seen it before.

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Dad had a number of scars on his body. Some left by his own relatives. He never talks about that. Mum had forbidden us to ask him questions about it, but those weren't the only scars. There were many, all telling us a different tale. I was seven when I spotted the scar on the back from his hand. The words 'I must not tell lies' etched on his skin.

"Who did it?" I had asked. Angry and horrified at the same time. As far as I knew, Dad was the most honest person ever.

I saw him glance at his scar and then at me, jaws clenched. A knew the story behind it wasn't pleasant.

"An evil woman." That's all he said and I knew he wasn't going to talk about it anymore. Frowning I still sat there, perplexed and still staring at the scar. His hand moved and I saw the next set of scars, adorning his wrist.

"Was this done by an evil woman too?"

He didn't clenched his jaw this time, nor did he looked at me. Biting his lip down he just stared at his wrist. For a moment I imagined the images of a tall woman with crazy hair, wearing black robes having a horrifying expression when she interrupted.

"James, give your father a rest."

I saw mum standing behind Dad, her hands on his shoulder. I think I saw Dad wince.

"Go play with your cousin's. They are planning to play quidditch."

The idea of quidditch drove all thoughts of evil witches out my mind and without a second thought I headed out of the kitchen. I glanced back as I reached to door only to see them kissing fiercely and I let go of the my worries.

If only I had seen the flaw in that kiss. If only I had known that the story of these scars were altogether different. If only I had known that the tale behind these scars was going to take away his life. Take away his life in such a way that it would destroy ours.

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Sundays of the Potter and Weasley kids were always spend at the burrow. We had just had lunch with our cousins when Grandma Molly came and told us that Dad had been rushed to the hospital because he had accidentally fallen down the stairs and was seriously injured. We were quickly quickly ushered to .

That fact that how could he have only fallen down the stairs and be on the verge of death was mystery. The sight of him bloodied and unconscious at the hospital bed was enough to send shivers down my spine. Mum sat there with us Lily on her lap as she cried.

'A wolf in sheep's clothing.' That what she was. To one she would have looked like a perfect wife in despair. I believed her act too. I just wish I hadn't. I should have questioned Dad about his injuries. But I didn't.

I wish I had.

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Dad never cried. To me he was always the brave tough Auror who fought bad people. And yet one day I saw him cry. He wasn't making any noise there were just the tears that kept sliding down his face. I wish I had consoled him then. Asked him why he was crying. I wished to know the reasons behind his tears.

But when I knew, it was too late. And I hate myself for it.

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It wasn't the first the time that an argument broke over between my parents. But they always made up with each other. I never knew the end of their arguments. It was always my Dad who interrupted.

 _"Let's not talk about it here, dear."_

 _"We will have this discussion later, Gin."_

I hated the silence that ran throughout the house as both of them would move into his study. I hated not knowing what was happening behind those closed doors. I hated not knowing this. I hate how much he kept us in the dark.

How many burns, scars and bruises and broken bones were due to his aurora mission and how many caused by her?

* * *

He often suffered from nightmares. Shouting frantically in his sleep. Many a times I've been woken up from his screaming. He'd always apologize.

'Sorry I woke you up kiddo.'

'Lets just forget about it, yeah'

I regret forgetting about then.

How many nightmares had he suffered sleeping beside his wife and how many because of his wife?

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 _'Your Mum is helping a friend out, she'll be back soon.'_

This is the excuse he would give us when I would ask him where Mum is. The absence of her was discomforting to say that least. Dad would always be anxious. He would try his best to not show it but how much could he hide? How many times I had heard him talking to Aunt Hermione in panic when Mum would not return in a day. That each time she went missing he would spend hours at night in the living room waiting for her completely ignoring his sleep.

How could have I possibly ignored all these signs?

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Dad kept us all in dark. He never meant any of us to find out. Had he not realised that he wasn't alone? That we were there for him. Always?

I realise he was only protecting us. Protecting us from the dark secret that loomed over us.

Because it's always like this, isn't it?

A child is not supposed to protect his parent, it's always the other way around.

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The day he died is still clearly etched in my mind. We never suspected that she would kill him. They loved eachother. I don't know whether she loved him or not but he did. I knew he loved her very much. The fact that until his dying moment he had still loved her, always hoping that everything would be alright in future is enough of a prove.

I wasn't supposed to see this. I wasn't supposed to see their fight. I wasn't supposed to see who was hitting him or why he wasn't protecting himself. My gasp was loud enough to distract him and he looked at me with wide eyes surprised to see me. And then that's it. There was the souls of flesh hitting flesh, then flesh hitting the glass table, glass shattering and pitiful cry of a child.

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 **Warning: Character death. This story contains Female on male abuse. This is not a Ginny bashing fic. Contains Domestic violence.**

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 **This is my first try on a Harry Pitter Fanfiction. Please do tell me how it is!**

 **Read and Review!**


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